Vitium
by ThexOnexWhoxWanders
Summary: A new woman arrives at Westworld, but she isn't a guest and she isn't exactly an orthodox employee of the park, either. And Stubbs has his hands full trying to keep track of her. Ashley Stubbs/OC
1. Part One: Chapter 1

**Summary** : A new woman arrives at Westworld, but she isn't a visitor. And Stubbs has his hands full trying to keep track of her. Ashley Stubbs/OC

 **A/N** : I'm hoping this will be my only author's note for this story. This story kind of came out of nowhere for me, but Stubbs' character was pretty intriguing to me, even before the Season 2 Finale. And now, of course, he is even more so. I apologize for the OC, but for me, it is absolutely necessary. I could have tried a Stubbs/Elsie fic, but I'm not sure I'd be able to get Elsie's character as spot on as I would like, and I wasn't really a big fan of her, anyway. Some notes: this story has a plot, but I'm trying to focus on the developing relationship between Stubbs and the OC. There will be four parts, and each part should contain roughly three chapters. I'll update based on reviews, probably. If it's not that popular, I may just keep the rest on my computer.

Anyway, enough of that. On with the show.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Westworld.

* * *

PART ONE

One.

 _The Empathizers_

As head of security, it was his job to know each and every face that passed in and out of the Mesa's Hub. It also meant that any new faces that wanted in to the Mesa's non-visitor sector needed to get cleared with him, first. So while he stood behind Bernard as the man regretfully declared Clementine to be placed out of commission, Ashley Stubbs sensed something in his immediate environs was off. Very off.

As a former Marine, he had learned to trust his instincts.

When something in his subconscious urged him to glance up, Stubbs did so. His eyes immediately landed on an unusually beautiful woman who was a _massive_ breach of security.

He didn't even register Bernard's questioning gaze or the queries that died on the older man's lips as he shoved open the glass door and started walking, quickly, over to the security breach. Questions flitted through his mind rapidly: how had she gotten in and why was she here? How much information had already been compromised? If she'd made it this deep into the Hub – into Behavior and Diagnostics – she'd clearly seen too much. Fuck, corporate was going to have his job for this.

She was standing outside one of the glass rooms, arms crossed over her chest, studying the technician and the host inside the room as they interacted. The knee-length dress was corporate-esque, but he knew she couldn't have been one of the higher ups – he had memorized all their faces in case a situation like this should ever occur.

There was something eerily familiar about the set of her shoulders, the careful mask on her face that revealed no emotion. He almost thought the dress seemed out of place on her, which was a strange thought to even have, considering _a.)_ he did not know her and _b.)_ she was just a security threat that needed to be dealt with as quickly and as quietly as possible. That's all.

"Ma'am'," Stubbs said, using what his brother too often had called his Military Voice. She didn't even flinch at his presence; he had stopped a respectful distance away, true, but in his experience, most people who were in places they didn't belong showed some signs of distress or nervousness, especially when being addressed. The woman just blinked. Like he hadn't said anything at all.

Taking half a step closer to her, and extremely aware that he only had a small time frame in which he could contain this problem and keep it as quiet as he could, Stubbs tried a firm and no-nonsense, "Ma'am. You're not authorized to be here."

Still, she just blinked, watching the technician and host interact with one another carefully, but a small smile had quirked on her lips. He tried very hard to not stare at her lips, which were also on the cusp of being a security threat. Unusually beautiful was probably an understatement for a woman like the one before him.

 _Focus_ , he thought.

Before he could open his mouth a third time to get the woman's attention, she responded without deigning to turn towards him. "You all treat them so… clinically," she said, distaste hiding underneath an otherwise casual tone. Momentarily thrown, Stubbs followed her gaze. He watched as the technician broke the pinkie of the host's right hand to test the host's pain receptors, and Stubbs' brows furrowed at the action. The host winced but had been commanded to stay silent. The technician didn't bat an eye.

The woman finally faced him, her eyes probing him up and down, as if in a single look, she could understand everything there was to know about Ashley Stubbs. He clenched his jaw and held her challenging stare when it finally stopped at his eyes. One dark eyebrow cocked. "Do you really think that you can make them look like us, feel like us, _hurt_ like us… and not eventually make them want freedom like us, too?"

His mouth opened. Wavered. Closed. _Focus_. "I'm head of security," he said, as if that was answer enough to her question. And besides: _I'm not qualified to answer that, really_. "And like I said, you're not authorized to be here."

Another smile stretched over her lips, small and amused. She had the deepest green eyes he had ever seen. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Stubbs?"

He tried not to show any surprise at her familiarity with him. "I am. And I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Eyes as green as the forests that dotted Shogun World. He hadn't thought it possible for someone to have eyes like that.

The woman gestured towards the hallway. "Then, by all means. Lead the way."

000

Something about the woman's green eyes and the sharp intelligence they hinted at deeply unsettled Stubbs. He felt like she was laughing at some private joke, amused at his expense. On their way to his office, she'd suggested he call his superiors. She was authorized to be anywhere she wanted in the park, she had told him. The confidence that did not waver in her voice forced self-doubt into his mind. So he had led her into his office, offered her a seat, and tried running her credentials.

"Name?" he asked pointedly, his fingers poised over the keyboard, prepared to type onto the glass.

The woman's green eyes danced. "Like I said, I suggest you call your superiors."

Frustration bubbled in his gut. He didn't _want_ to get Theresa or Ford involved until he had more information to go off of. He didn't need to seem any more incompetent than he did, considering the woman had managed to get past security at all.

"If you could just give me a name," he said, "we can settle this between us." Not necessarily true. Theresa would have to be notified. She would, in turn, notify Ford. Call it pathetic, but he loved his job, even if he was the head of security for a glorified amusement park. He really didn't want to lose it. But this was going to look bad no matter how he tried to spin it, and honestly, the truth had always suited him best.

The woman leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher of water off his desk, pouring herself a glass. She sipped on it. "Mr. Stubbs," she said kindly. Patiently. As if he were the outsider rather than her. "I must insist you call your superiors at once."

What other choice did he have? And why was she so set on meeting with his superiors?

One thing was certain: he couldn't, in any good conscience, call Theresa or Ford in here without ensuring the woman was weaponless. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried going after Ford, of course. And no one was getting hurt on Stubbs' watch.

The woman seemed to read as much in his eyes. She sighed, resigned. "I'm going to guess you want to search me." Then she gestured at herself, the sleek dress she wore, hugging every goddamn curve. "Not really any room to hide a weapon here, is there?"

 _No_ , he half wanted to agree. "Standard protocol, ma'am."

He stood, stiff, and walked around his glass desk, gesturing for the woman to stand as well. Now, her smile was strained.

Was she uncomfortable because she didn't want to be searched by a man, or because she was hiding something?

Propriety aside, he needed to do his job.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he offered apologetically. "My female officer is out in the park…"

"It's fine," the woman interjected. She stood, and her grace still seemed out of place with the dress. He just couldn't place why.

Brushing the thought aside, he stepped up to her, offering another apologetic look as he gestured for her to hold her arms out. For once, she followed his directions and complied.

He tried to touch her as little as possible while being as thorough as possible – a difficult line to walk. As his fingertips brushed over her arms, starting from the sleeves of her dress and moving towards her torso, he couldn't help but notice the lean muscle that seemed hidden beneath the gauzy garment. His eyes flickered towards hers, which were steadily – and unnervingly – settled on him in return.

Clearing his throat to push away the cotton-ball dryness of his mouth, he began skimming his fingers over her torso lightly – this was why a female officer would have been so much better for the job – fingertips ghosting over her breasts, then down over her waist, before he finally dropped to one knee and patted down her legs. That proved to be the most difficult. He couldn't very well stick his hands up this woman's dress – not only was it not proper and not protocol, it was horribly inappropriate. So he had to awkwardly pat at the sides of her dress and then down to her ankles… but wait.

His eyes flickered up to hers again. Finally, he felt more on his game. It was acceptable protocol if he found a weapon, so his hand trailed back up her right leg, just beneath the hem of her dress, and he tried to ignore the stunning smoothness of her skin until he came to a thigh holster. A gun.

He unholstered the weapon and backed away from her before she could try anything. He had his own weapon out and trained on her a second later, a frown marring his lips.

"I don't know how you even got in here in the first place, but to come in _armed_ – "

"Your superiors can explain that," the woman said calmly, slowly – almost lazily – raising her hands, as if having a gun pointed at her was an every day occurrence. Who the _fuck_ was this? "Which is why I _really_ insist you call them, Mr. Stubbs. It'll make your day and mine go much better if you do. Besides, I'm not personally authorized to give you my information."

 _What_? "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. I'm not authorized to give you my information. So please call your superiors and we can get this all straightened out. Then you can be on your way, and I can be on mine."

God. It was only Monday. How could all this shit happen on a Monday? And how could a woman who looked like _that_ be the cause of his headache, right now?

000

"Agent Haque," Theresa breathed out in a sigh as soon as she entered Stubbs' office and glanced at the stranger sitting handcuffed in one of Stubbs' chairs. Theresa frowned at the woman the way Stubbs imagined you might frown about your recurring nightmare. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Theresa," the apparent Agent Haque greeted with far more warmth than the head of Quality Assurance had bothered. "It's been, what? Three years?"

"It's not been long enough," the Danish woman replied wearily. She rubbed at her temples and glanced at Stubbs, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and thoroughly confused.

"You know this woman?" he asked the department head, the disbelief evident in his tone.

Theresa nodded regretfully. "I have had the misfortune of running into Agent Haque before. Is there a reason she's handcuffed to your desk, Stubbs?"

He grunted. "I found this on her." He waved the unloaded Glock 27, but it didn't seem to surprise Theresa. "And found her wandering around Behavior and Diagnostics."

Theresa pinched the bridge of her nose. Looking to Agent Haque, she said, "I don't suppose you'll just tell me who on the Board hired you."

The agent smiled. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Typical." Theresa waved a dismissive hand at Stubbs. "Uncuff her. Give her full access… whatever she asks for." Then the woman settled a glare that would have made someone lesser than Agent Haque melt in their chair from fear alone. "But one fuck-up from you, and you're gone. And trust me, Haque. I eagerly await the day that happens."

Then Theresa was gone, leaving Stubbs alone with the mysterious Agent Haque again.

She looked over at him and jangled her handcuff, giving him a look that said _well_?

Stubbs exhaled loudly. He fished the key out of his pocket and released her. She stood, brushing out her dress, and held her hand out expectantly. Another sigh, and Stubbs handed her the gun back.

Before she could leave, too, he stopped her. "So, Agent Haque, is it?"

She just smiled back at him. He was beginning to realize that a smile, to this woman, wasn't meant to convey the same thing it did for others. Her smile was her weapon. And god, it was a deadly weapon. "It is. See you around, Stubbs."


	2. Part One: Chapter 2

Two.

 _Trust_

One month had passed since Stubbs found Agent Haque wandering around Behavior and Diagnostics. One month filled with various surprises that almost always included the mysterious woman in some form or another. Never as the perpetrator – no, Agent Haque seemed to have taken Theresa's warning to heart – but always the observer. Whenever things got out of hand or even the hint of something suspicious was occurring, Agent Haque could always be found somewhere nearby. And because it was Stubbs' job to oversee these issues, they were running into each other quite a lot.

He had quickly learned that she loved the color black, wore only tactical, tight-fitting pants that stretched over her lithe and long legs like a second skin and a strange black armored vest with a long-sleeved shirt that always had its sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and had a knack for disappearing from rooms without anyone noticing.

If it hadn't been for the gawking stares of the other employees in the Hub, Stubbs would have thought he was seeing a ghost. Or was hallucinating the woman altogether. There was something eerie about her, yes, but not necessarily a _bad_ eerie. Just… eerie. Neutral eerie. _Strange_.

Aside from her affinity for black clothing or her strange ability to disappear on command, Stubbs hadn't learned a single goddamn thing about the woman. Frustrating, to say the least. It was his _job_ to know things. Everything. The functionality of the park and the safety of the park's hosts, guests, and employees relied on his ability to gather information and sort it into various categories that ranged from benign to threatening. And Agent Haque… well, he didn't quite know where to put her. He didn't even know her first name, for fuck's sake.

So when she finally spoke to him after a month of mostly silence – not that he hadn't tried to strike up a conversation – he was more than a little stunned. They were in the park, in Sector 22 of all places, watching as a group of techs excavated a strange mass of bodies that had been buried six feet below the earth.

It wasn't terribly shocking to find that a body had been buried. Especially a host's body. In fact, it happened all the time. Part of their programming allowed the hosts to bury their dead, and the dead hosts had tracking devices imbedded in their pearls to make it easy to find and dig them up. No, that wasn't strange at all.

What was strange about this particular excavation, and what had brought him and, as he assumed, Agent Haque to the scene, was the unusual details surrounding the deaths of the hosts that had been tossed into the mass grave.

Each and every one of them had had their head's cut open, almost surgically so. Almost as if whoever had sliced them open was looking for their mind pearls, which were thankfully protected by three layers of titanium so as to make such an endeavor impossible, since they carried valuable IP.

Who in the park would be interested in getting their hands on a mind pearl? And why?

He was watching the third body get placed on a tarp when Agent Haque spoke up behind him, nearly startling him.

"Have you cross referenced the guest list with any doctors? Surgeons? Even someone like a veterinarian or former military medic? Mortician?"

He was so surprised by the number of words that passed her lips that he could only stare at her in silence for several long seconds. A silence in which he yet again remembered how unusually beautiful she was. Her short hair which was usually pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck was loose and flowing lightly in the breeze coming off the water beyond the cliff before them. The setting sun caught strands of the chestnut color, highlighting them in various shades of red, bright as any fire he'd ever seen. Foresty green eyes blinked at him; once, twice. She cleared her throat and cocked an eyebrow.

Shit, that's right. She'd asked him a question.

Looking down at the pad in his hands, he nodded gruffly. "Yeah. I'm working on that right now. We have nearly two dozen doctors in the park currently. Five of them are surgeons. One specializes in brain surgery. I have someone back at the Mesa looking over his trip right now, trying to figure out if he was in this sector recently. No vets, no former military medics, and no morticians." Not surprising, really, since one night's stay at the park was about $10,000 US. Hell, Stubbs didn't even make enough to vacation here. Not that he'd ever really want to.

"Hmm." Agent Haque tapped her chin thoughtfully. It was unlike her to ask him any questions, especially regarding something they were both looking into. He stared at her askance, wondering if he should pose a question of his own.

"And if it's not the surgeon, or any of the other doctors for that matter? Then what?" she asked him, watching as yet another body was pulled from the grave and tossed unceremoniously on the tarp at their feet.

Stubbs stared, somewhat horrified, at the host's mutilated face. Human beings' capacity for cruelty never ceased to surprise him, here. Of course, the hosts weren't really people – they were technology. Or so management told him incessantly if he ever even showed signs of sympathizing with them. But fuck if it wasn't easy to believe they were people. Or to want to believe it. How someone else could inflict this level of pain and suffering on another being, human or not, went beyond Stubbs' ability to understand.

"I know," Agent Haque said sadly, staring down at the bodies stacked haphazardly and carelessly in front of them. "It's… unusually cruel treatment."

Stubbs tried to shrug. "Management swears it's just pleasure and entertainment to some of our edgier guests. I guess I just don't see the fun in doing shit like this."

Agent Haque studied him carefully. Her lips pursed – he still thought they were a fucking security breach, themselves, because they were so goddamn sensual all the time. "If you get a lead," she said suddenly, backing away from him towards the elevator that would lead down to the tunnels, "let me know."

Shit. That was the first time she ever asked that they partner up. He could have easily said no. For fuck's sake, he didn't even know this woman's first name. He didn't know why she was in Westworld or who had hired her or anything vital whatsoever. So why the fuck did he actually agree? "All right. But only if you do the same."

There was one of her smiles again – tugging at her lips, revealing a small dimple in her left cheek. "Of course. Fair's fair."

000

Stubbs didn't spend a lot of time in his apartment. It was a bit too lavish for a man like him, even in its minimalist state. Ten years in the military instilled in Stubbs a sense of practicality that would probably never leave him. What did he need all this space for? He hardly owned anything. It was just a place to sleep, and on occasion, to get away from the constant buzz of park life.

He had taken that evening to rest up, sit on the couch for a bit with a book in his hands, to collect himself and think.

A lot of strange things had been happening lately. Strange things he wasn't made privy to. As head of security, the cagey atmosphere that had taken up residence through the Hub, particularly Behavior and Diagnostics, only made his job that much more difficult. People were keeping secrets. Something was going on, he was sure of it. Something that went beyond a crazed guest slaughtering half a dozen hosts in the middle of the park before cutting into their heads. It made him more than a little uneasy. He had a job: prevent catastrophe, secure the guests, secure the hosts. A job handed down to him by Ford, himself. But that job was getting harder and harder to do.

A knock at his door startled him from these thoughts. His eyebrows drew together as he stared across his living room at the black door, trying to puzzle out who would look for him in his personal quarters rather than try to reach him on his communicator.

He didn't have friends here. No secret romance, either. That only left…

"Agent Haque," he said with some surprise once he had opened the door to reveal the woman. She was dressed slightly differently than earlier that day, having traded in one pair of black pants for another and switched out her archetypal combat vest for one of the same color, make, and style, but with sleeves. "Is something wrong?"

Agent Haque offered one of her practiced smiles. "Can I come in?"

Stubbs stood there awkwardly for a second, his mind working a mile a minute. There was nothing wrong with her coming in, of course – surely, she wanted to talk about something related to work. That wasn't the problem. The problem was… he had never had anyone else in his apartment before. Especially not a woman. A woman who looked as stunning as Agent Haque.

Which also wasn't a problem, he rushed to reassure himself. Why would that be a problem? They were colleagues. Currently working together on a case. Not a problem, no.

"Sure," he said, stepping aside to allow her entrance.

The agent stepped inside as if she owned the place. It didn't surprise Stubbs in the least – it was so characteristic of the quiet, intimidating, and confident woman. She surveyed his living room and kitchen with a sharp eye, quickly absorbing little details here and there, before her gaze rested on the book he'd discarded on the coffee table.

One of her dark eyebrows rose. "I didn't take you for a Stephen King fan," she noted, nodding at the book.

Stubbs rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. "I'm not. My brother is. He mails all the books he reads to me whenever he finishes them. Thinks I spend too much of my time working and all that."

Agent Haque gave a brief nod of understanding. "My mom's the same. Last week, she sent me a cookbook. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a cookbook?"

Her face was screwed up in confusion, and Stubbs nearly cursed himself for finding the look rather cute. And for the woman to even share that much information about herself was groundbreaking in itself.

He grinned. Shrugged. "Cook, probably?"

Agent Haque snorted. "Do I look like I cook?"

"No," he admitted with a slight laugh. Were they actually being friendly?

"Exactly. It's just a waste of paper." She seated herself in one of the chairs surrounding the coffee table, cocking her foot up on her knee, and gestured for Stubbs to sit, too.

He tried, very hard, not to roll his eyes at that. They were in his own goddamn apartment and she was offering _him_ a seat.

"It's late." After he sat down, he glanced at his watch with a frown. "So I'm guessing you have news on those hosts who had their heads carved up?"

Agent Haque probably made an exquisite poker player. Her expression gave absolutely nothing away. "No, not yet."

She left it at that but continued to stare at him. Pick him apart.

Stubbs started to fidget. Pulled at a tiny loose thread on his Henley. "If that's not it, then why are you here?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

Another silence. Didn't look like she was going to jump right in and ask him. Actually, she seemed content to just sink back into her chair and watch him.

He was familiar with the tactic. Had endured it constantly in the military once he'd reached a decent rank. Intimidation. See if your target tries to break the silence. Analyze what they decide to talk about. Coax an answer from them.

Settling back into his couch, Stubbs crossed his arms and met her green-eyed stare, challengingly. "Can we skip the intimidation and get to the part where you ask me the question?"

Agent Haque smiled, but this time was different than all the other times. This time, this smile… it seemed genuine. She grinned and even her eyes lit up a little as she looked at him. He was completely enraptured. "That's what I like about you, Stubbs. You're a very direct man. Honest. Not a bull-shitter. I respect that about you."

"… Thanks?"

"Don't mention it. Seriously," she added, though her eyes sparked with some mischief he was beginning to recognize as innate to her personality. "I have a reputation to uphold." She settled her hands on her knee, templed her fingers, and leaned forward. "Anyway. Why did you do it? Why did you betray Ford and your company and kill all those hosts? Cut into their heads to get at their mind pearls? Greed? No," she answered for herself, looking Stubbs over like she was reading him as he began to panic, to grow even more confused, to become disoriented at her crazy line of questioning. "You're not the greedy type. Too practical. Out of a sense of righteousness? You don't like the way the hosts are being treated, so you lure them to Sector 22, command them to hold still while you slaughter them – humanely? Hmm… Slice into their heads to get at the mind pearls only to realize you stupidly didn't do your research? That you can't get to them because there's three layers of titanium in your way. But what, you were planning on getting ahold of some IP, trying to smuggle it out? Free them? There are some details I'd need to work out if _that's_ your motivation."

Finally having enough of her absurd and frankly startling accusations, Stubbs stood, his hands coiled at his sides, anger flashing in his bright blue eyes. "What the hell are you talking about, Haque? Fuck, you think _I_ did that to those hosts?" He still couldn't fathom the level of cruelty those poor hosts had been subjected to. The carelessness towards human – no, not human, not quite – towards _life_.

Agent Haque sat back in her chair once more, carefully studying Stubbs. He could see her take stock of him: the rise of his chest as he breathed heavy with anger, his hands that had turned into white-knuckled fists, his clenched jaw. She took all of this in and nodded to herself. "Good," she said at last. "I was about ninety-five percent sure you had nothing to do with it, but I like to be certain. Very certain."

Stubbs stared down at the enigmatic woman. Anger, frustration, confusion, and even fear warred for dominance inside him. A full minute passed like this as he tried to get a grip on himself, on the situation, on this fucking _frustrating_ woman.

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked her, all kindness washed from his tone. If his voice quavered a bit, she either didn't notice or more likely ignored it. "Is this a joke to you?"

"No," Haque said simply. "I find a great deal of things to be funny, Mr. Stubbs, but not this. Whatever the fuck is going on in this park is dangerous. Do you realize that? Do you know what kind of trouble you're all in?"

Where was all of this coming from? What the hell did she know that he didn't?

"I don't understand."

"I know," she said. "And that's why I trust you."

000

"Stop," Stubbs said, holding one hand up to keep Agent Haque from speaking further while his other pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Just… hold on a minute, okay? You're seriously trying to tell me that, what? You're investigating something here at the park, something you ' _can't tell me about_ ' for my own protection, and you want me to ' _just trust_ ' you for… what? Why the fuck should I trust you?"

He'd had enough, honestly. After she'd admitted to trusting _him_ , Agent Haque had launched into some diatribe about how, if management continued to run things the way they were, lots of people were going to get hurt. Or killed. Most likely killed, she had surmised. And if Stubbs just ' _trusted'_ her in return, if he just ' _helped'_ her, she could save them all. She could fix things.

Yet she had offered nothing up. No evidence, no story, no _reason_ to trust her. Didn't she realize how ludicrous this was?

"I don't even know your real fucking name," he added, hands coming down to rest at his hips as he spun on his heel and fixed a glare on her. It was even more frustrating that she didn't even blink. "I know next to nothing about you. Why the fuck should I trust you?"

"Because you want to," she said.

 _Because you want to_. For fuck's sake. What was he, an open book? Could she read him that well? This was all such bullshit. This was all so fucked.

"What makes you think I want to?"

Her lips quirked. Instead of amusement in her eyes, though, he saw pain. "Because you're a good man, Stubbs. You want to trust me because your instinct is telling you to. Has your instinct ever been wrong?"

He didn't want to deign that with an answer. It would only make her case stronger.

"Stubbs," she said, standing finally, _finally_ getting as worked up as he was. She stepped closer to him but stopped midway. Realized it wasn't very professional. "Stubbs, come on. I can't… I can't tell you why I need your help, yet. I can't. I need to secure a few other things before I do that. But this park… these people…" When she looked up at him, he saw fear in her eyes. Real fear. Not even the best actress could fake it like that. The protector in him wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, tell her that nothing bad would happen to her so long as he was around. But the rational part of his brain knew that this was a woman who needed no comfort. This was a woman to be reckoned with. A predator. So why was she afraid? Or better yet… who was she afraid for? "These people," she continued. "They're not who you think they are."

 _They aren't_ , he agreed. As things had steadily started degrading over the past few months, Stubbs had come to this realization himself. "Then tell me who they are."

"I _can't_."

She was frustrated, too. She wanted to tell him. That much was clear. "Why can't you? Who's keeping you quiet?" The thought struck him – even a fearsome woman like the one before him could be extorted. Could be used or threatened. Someone might have something on her. Might have a muzzle over her mouth and a leash around her neck. "Is someone…" he paused, wondering how to word this right. "Is there someone who poses a threat to you, Haque?"

Haque blinked. Pressed her mouth into a thin line. He couldn't make heads or tails if that was an affirmative or a negative, though. "I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about the people here. The good people here."

But it needled at Stubbs. "But should you be worried about yourself?"

Something flashed in her eyes. It was brief, lingering hardly a second, before it was gone. Wrapped up tight under her many layers of mystery and enigma. "If you help me, you'll be helping a lot of good people."

He cared about that. Of course he cared about that. But she had dodged his question, and he was beginning to worry. "Are you a good person?"

She tossed her hands in the air, frustrated, and spun away from him. "You're asking all the wrong questions. At least, to the wrong person." Facing him again, he could read the weariness on her features, the exhaustion in her eyes. "Stubbs. I want to help you. I want to help everyone. Please help me do that."

But there were still so many holes in what she was telling him. So much he didn't know…

Committing to stepping towards him this time, Haque stood just a foot away from him, now, her eyes searching his. She _could_ read him like an open book, he realized. "You want to trust me. At least let me help you do that." Her fingers curled at her sides and she sucked in a deep breath, staring at her toes for a brief moment, steeling herself. Then she canted her chin once more and held his gaze, determined. "My name is Zora. Haque is my real last name. But my first name is Zora. You can call me that, if you like, but only when we're alone. Don't slip up on that. I don't like it when people know my name."

It seemed, as he ravenously took in everything she was telling him, he was having trouble forming thoughts of his own. "Zora?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It's Arabic. Means 'dawn'. Not a fucking soul in my family speaks Arabic, though, so gods know why my mom chose it. She's an anthropologist. Off somewhere in the world right now but still has the time to send me fucking cookbooks. She wanted a girly daughter. A daughter whose hair she could braid." Agent Haque – _Zora –_ offered him a wane smile. "She got me instead. Got my first motorcycle at fifteen years old. She was still trying to clip flowers in my hair. When she realized who I was, though – who I _am_ – well… bless her soul. Seriously. She still wishes I was a girly, obsessed-with-pink-and-my-future-wedding kind of woman, but fuck if she isn't secretly proud of me." Zora searched his eyes again, and Stubbs could read how _vulnerable_ she had just made herself. Had she ever told anyone that? Had the mysterious and enigmatic woman who preferred silences over words, who made no friends but made enemies, ever told anyone what she just told him?

Probably not.

So why him?

"Zora," he said again, testing the name out, feeling sloppy with those two syllables he hadn't known went together. "Why are you… Why did you tell me that?"

"Because you want to trust me. Because I _need_ you to. You're the only one I can trust here, Stubbs. I… I've been in worse situations, believe me, I have. But there's something about this park, about the people running it… It makes me nervous."

Maybe it was bad judgement. Maybe it was his heart driving him more than his brain, right now. Maybe everything was just fucked, anyway, because he _knew_ she was right. There was something wrong at the park. Something wrong about the people he worked with, the people he worked for. So many fucking maybes.

"Okay," he finally said, watching relief flood her deep green eyes. "Okay, Haque… Zora. I trust you."


	3. Part One: Chapter 3

**WARNING** : I should really warn anyone who is reading that there are some slight mentions of events that occur throughout both seasons. The next chapter/part deals with the end of Season 1, so hopefully there aren't any spoilers. I'll try to put up a warning just in case.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Westworld.

* * *

Three.

 _Obsession_

Three days had passed since Stubbs had opened his door to find Zora standing outside it. Since he had learned her mom was an anthropologist who had wanted a daughter that wasn't quite Zora, herself. Since he had learned her name, finally, and even started to trust her. Three days, yet he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her. It was like she dropped off the map entirely. Of course, he tried searching for her location on his pad, but nothing popped up.

He was worried.

More and more things were going wrong in the park. Some of the hosts were displaying signs of aberrant behavior. One had gone off his rocker entirely and started massacring a bunch of other hosts at the Mariposa, scaring the shit out of guests that had been there at the time. Stubbs had examined the scene, himself. Something wasn't _right_. And where was Zora? While all this was happening, where had she disappeared to?

Was she safe?

Then Theresa was found dead. A slip-and-fall they'd told him. Like it was normal for the Danish woman to roam the park on her own, like it was just some accident. Of course, he knew better. Of course, his gut was telling him she hadn't simply fallen. He was growing more paranoid. The words Zora had spoken echoed in his head: _these people aren't you who think they are._

So who are they?

And, of course, he had considered the very real possibility that Zora Haque was behind Theresa's death. That very first day Stubbs had met Zora, when he had handcuffed her to his desk and called the Danish woman in, Theresa's distaste for the agent was obvious. There was bad blood between the pair. So Zora had motivation. She had means, too – she was a secret agent of _some_ sort. Carried that gun. Walked around with a deadly sort of grace.

What if Zora Haque had killed Theresa, and Stubbs was the fucking fool for trying to trust the agent?

It was all he could think about. The very thing his thoughts circled back to as more hosts malfunctioned, as Bernard grew curiously quiet, as Elsie apparently decided to go on a fucking vacation in the midst of this whole mess. It was _all_ he could think about.

He was lying awake in his bed wondering about the enigmatic agent when he heard the front door to his living room slide open. It was quiet, of course – he probably wouldn't have heard it at all, had he been asleep.

Bolting upright, Stubbs held still. Listened. No one had access to his quarters except for him. He knew because he handled security, he granted access. No one could get in.

Theresa was dead. Was he next?

Creeping out from under his sheets, he readied the gun he always kept under his pillow and slunk towards the door that stood between him and the living room. His body hugged the corner, molded itself into the shadows, and he tried to tell himself that he was prepared for whatever would happen next. He was a fucking former Marine for fuck's sake. He could handle this.

There was a gasp in the living room, a grunt, and something hard fell to the floor. Stubbs' brows came together in confusion. His pounding heart settled. Something had been very familiar about that gasp.

Yanking his door open, training his pistol on the intruder sprawled out on the ground between his living room and kitchen, Stubbs commanded, "Stay still. Don't move and I won't shoot you."

"Well fuck," a voice that so clearly belonged to Zora Haque said. "I knew you were starting to have your doubts about me, Stubbs, but shoot me? Now you've hurt my feelings."

He flicked the lights on immediately, eyes growing a little wider as he took in the woman's state.

She was bleeding. Badly. There was a cut above her right eyebrow and deep red blood seeping from her torso, which was curiously without her armored vest. Even in conservative terms, it looked like she had gotten her ass handed to her.

"The hell happened to you?" He rushed to ask, quickly heading back into his bedroom to access the first aid kit he kept in the bathroom. When he returned to the living room, Zora had propped herself up against the back of the couch, on the ground, her legs splayed flat out in front of her, her chest rising and falling with every breath and her hands sticky with her own blood. "Have you been shot?"

"Stabbed," she grit out, lifting her shirt to reveal smooth ivory skin and an angry, bloody wound. "Fucker got lucky."

"Who got lucky?"

"Doesn't matter," she dismissed him, looking at the first aid kit. "You got a wand in there? It'd be nice to restitch the skin right now. Hurts like a bitch."

Fishing out the desired tech, Stubbs crouched in front of her and pushed her shirt up further to have better access to her wound. The wand would burn. Normally a local anesthetic was applied before use, but they didn't really have that option right now. "This is gonna hurt."

Zora locked eyes with him. "Just do it."

Holding the wand over the wound, Stubbs engaged its healing option and watched as white-hot lasers shot from the wand down onto her skin. The skin restitched itself before his eyes, leaving just blood behind and an irate looking Zora.

"Thank you," she grunted, pulling herself to sit upright.

Stubbs placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping the woman from trying to stand. "You've probably lost a decent amount of blood. Just hold tight for a while, okay? Give yourself some time."

Zora rolled her eyes. "Not sure if I _have_ time."

"Why? Because you killed Theresa?"

The agent's eyes went hard. She blinked up at Stubbs once, twice, before her face fell from confused and angry to disheartened. He wasn't sure what he had expected of her reaction, but he certainly hadn't expected her to look so… sad. "What? What happened to Theresa?"

Stubbs stood. He needed some space away from Zora. She was… gods, she was a distraction. He needed to _think_.

"Stubbs," Zora called his name firmly. There was a tremor in her voice. "What the fuck happened to Theresa? She's… dead?"

Hands on his hips, mouth carved into a terrible frown, Stubbs faced Zora and nodded grimly. He studied her reaction. The way she sunk back into the couch's leather, deflated, eyes glossing over with thought. The tiny frown that tugged at her lips trembled just a little. He wondered if she would cry. Did Zora Haque ever cry? But she didn't. She clenched her jaw a moment later and looked up at him, green eyes finding blue.

"Who killed her? What happened?"

He knew Zora wasn't behind Theresa's death, now. Whatever doubts he might have had were long gone. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed. "Management said she had a slip-and-fall in sector 16. Said it was an accident. So officially, no one killed her."

Zora's eyes were sharp as emeralds. "But unofficially?"

"Unofficially," Stubbs continued, drawing out the word's syllables as he thought, "something isn't right. Theresa wasn't exactly the exploring type. She didn't give a shit about walking around the park. Why was she out there? What was she doing?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think it was an accident."

The agent nodded. She grunted again, one hand hovering over her fresh scar tissue while the other planted itself on the floor so she could lift herself up. Stubbs rushed to help her, but she waved away the aid. Gods, she was stubborn.

"You need to rest," he chastised her. "You're not in any shape to be walking around. How the fuck did you get up here anyway? And into my apartment? You don't have the access."

Through the pain, her eyes twinkled. "I think we proved not long ago that you don't fully comprehend what I do and don't have access to."

Stubbs had mixed feelings on that matter. "Regardless," he grit out, deciding there was a better time than now to think over what she had said, "you can't just – "

"I _can_ ," Zora interrupted him heatedly. She made her way over to his kitchen, favoring her right side, and searched his cupboards. Assuming she was looking for a water glass, Stubbs came up behind her, gently pushed her hand back down – she was definitely putting too much tension on that wound when it had only just been sealed up – before grabbing the desired glass. He shifted around her and filled it up at the tap before handing it over. Zora mumbled a ' _thank you'_ , taking a hearty sip.

Crossing his arms, Stubbs leaned back against the island countertop thoughtfully. What the hell was he supposed to do with her now? She should be resting, but he suspected – no, he _knew_ – she wouldn't take kindly to that advice.

Zora sipped on her water more, but her eyes finally turned back to Stubbs. They trailed from his face, down his neck, and stopped at his chest.

His reaction was instantaneous – his ears grew red and his stomach coiled up anxiously, because he _knew_ that look. Stubbs wasn't a fool. He was a decent-looking guy, and the many passes he'd received from his fellow female coworkers only furthered that notion. So that look that she was giving him… Fuck. And he had stupidly forgotten his state of dress – or rather, undress – until this very moment.

He glanced down, realizing that he was completely shirtless, but thankfully wearing the soft pajama pants his brother had given him last Christmas. Things could have been so much worse. He was in no way ashamed of his body – far from it, actually. Being a former Marine had not only instilled a sense of practicality in him, but also a fierce need to exercise and stay in peak shape. His chest was defined, his washboard abs had received several appreciative stares at the gym whenever he deemed a day hot enough to go shirtless. There was a V at his hips; a light trail of hair started below his belly button and went south. He was good looking. He knew that.

He just never thought a woman of Zora Haque's stature would ever think that. Glancing back up at her, finding her eyes skimming over his body again, he realized with some surprise that she _did_.

His stomach coiled up just that much more. In that moment, despite the mystery surrounding the woman, despite the chaos going on all around him, he desperately wanted to close the short distance between them and kiss her.

Green eyes blinked up at him, swirling with lust, and for a moment, he thought she wanted that, too. He stepped towards her, prepared to make the move, but Zora stepped away. The lust drained from her eyes; she looked over at his floor-to-ceiling windows, at the vista beyond.

"If someone killed Theresa," she said, but there was a hoarseness to her voice that hadn't been present before, "then you need to be careful, Stubbs." Green eyes turned to him again, serious. Even a little bit worried. "Do you understand?"

He was still trying to process what had almost happened between them. Quickly, he shoved it aside to analyze later. "You think someone would come after me? Why?"

Of course, he had thought that, himself, earlier. When Zora had first entered his apartment and he hadn't known who the intruder was. But that was natural paranoia. Zora, on the other hand, seemed truly worried for his sake.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "As far as I knew, Theresa wasn't a threat…"

"Wasn't a threat to who?" he demanded. It was rare that she let anything slip, that she let him in on what her true purpose was here, but she had, and he was certainly going to latch on to that. "Zora, if you know something, tell me." Now he did step closer to her, but for different reasons. Boxing her in between himself and the counter, his eyes bored into hers. "Please. If there's something I can do…"

"The only thing you can do is keep yourself safe," she told him. "I can handle everything else."

Stubbs snorted. "Can you?" He gestured towards her recently-healed wound. To the cut still seeping blood lethargically over her eyebrow. "Doesn't look like that to me. What happened to you?"

Zora straightened her spine. She set the water glass down on the countertop behind her, and although Stubbs was at least half a foot taller than her five-foot-eight inches, he felt like his height did nothing to intimidate her. In truth, it very likely didn't.

"Look," she said in a tone that implied Stubbs very much would not like her next few sentences. "I appreciate your help, Stubbs. I really do… I didn't have anyone else to turn to, and I was in bad shape." Green eyes that were just too green searched his face. "It might not mean much to you… but I trust you. For some reason, I trust you. So please trust me. I'm not withholding information to be an asshole. I just don't want you to get too caught up in all this."

Stubbs shook his head stubbornly. "No – you don't get to do that. You don't get to trust me, to come to me looking half-dead, to let me _care_ , and then keep whatever the fuck is going on from me. You don't get to do that." His voice had hitched halfway through his harangue. As soon as he finished, he knew he had said too much. Zora's eyes had widened, her frown had deepened. She looked shaken. "What I mean is…" Gods, how could he salvage that? "I just mean… you can't ask me to trust you and think I don't want to help you. Whatever you're trying to keep me from getting caught up in is my _job_. So let me do my job."

But she was already edging away from him. "It's not your job, Stubbs. I know what your job is. I know what it is better than anyone else you work with." That frightened him. She knew about Ford's personal directions to him? How could she know that? "And this isn't your job. It's mine."

"I want to help."

Lithe legs skirted around the island. She was heading towards the door, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop her. Verbally, physically… there was nothing he could do. Zora Haque was a woman on a mission, and nothing would keep her from that mission. He could see that, now.

"I know you do." Her voice was oddly kind. Soft. "But you'll help me the most by keeping yourself safe."

He followed her to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle. She was staring at him so sadly. So… openly. "And what about you? Who's gonna keep you safe, huh?"

The smile she gave him was thin. "I will. That's what I do, Stubbs."

"You can't always go it alone."

"Maybe not," she allowed. "But I can try."

Then she was gone. Slipped out from his apartment and off to some destination he would never know. He hadn't even gotten out of her where she'd been the past three days. What had happened to her.

Zora Haque was more mystery than anything else, and it was killing him.


	4. Part Two: Chapter 1

**A/N** : A few quick mentions. I want to emphasize that this is AU even though it loosely follows events in the show. It's actually very AU. Secondly, I guess Stubbs' character might even be considered OOC, but tbh, the show doesn't provide too much on him in the first place. Third: There will probably be longer chapters from here on out. Note that this is the beginning of part two – part two of four, actually. And lastly, I see that there are a few people reading this, which I appreciate. Always feel free to drop a review or PM me. This was supposed to be a short ficlet that turned into a full-grown story, so I'm sorry if you're disappointed in the direction I've taken things, but I'm pretty happy with it so far. Oh: and things will be picking up speed very, very soon.

* * *

 **PART TWO**

One.

 _A Girl, A Gun, A Dress_

The sun was scorching down on Stubbs' back as he stared at the newest excavation of bodies. Techs in their white-and-red gear rushed around him, eager to get the corpses – hosts – dug up and ready for examination back at the Hub. Charlotte Hale, the newest head of Quality Assurance, had arrived in a whirlwind just a week prior. Tonight was the gala Hale insisted on hosting, despite all the chaos in the park.

There were too many variables rushing around, too many people to keep track of at this point. Theresa was dead. Zora had clearly been attacked and nearly killed by someone. Management was acting out of sorts. Bernard hardly spoke to him anymore or disappeared at strange hours of the night to wander the park, according to his GPS log. Elsie hadn't returned from her vacation.

It was almost too much to handle, but Stubbs was dedicated. Always had been that way. Whatever was happening with the hosts, the guests, even management… he would weather through it. He would figure things out.

Right?

He had crouched down to examine a female host's mutilated head for a moment when he heard a familiar voice. Straightening up in an instant, Stubbs wheeled around to discover Zora approaching the dig site, chatting with a tech at her side.

She was dressed in her usual gear: skin-tight black pants, odd armored vest, and a black short sleeved shirt. Her Glock 27 was no longer hidden but strapped to her thigh in plain view. She was still favoring her right side, but the movement was nearly imperceptible if you didn't know what to look for. The healing cut above her right eyebrow, on the other hand, was perfectly obvious.

Stifling the urge to charge up to her and demand she go back to Hub and rest, Stubbs hung back a few moments and studied the agent. It had only been the night before last when he'd found her in his apartment, badly beaten. The way she had left things with him… just darting back out into the chaos, refusing his help, refusing to even answer basic questions… He wasn't sure how to proceed.

Zora stopped at the cusp of the mass grave, peered over the edge, frowned at what she saw. Nearly a dozen bodies this time, all tossed haphazardly on one another, all bearing mutilated heads. The air was thick with the stench of death. For not the first time, Stubbs wondered how the others could ever view the hosts as so much less than human when even their deaths were the same.

When green eyes latched on to his, Stubbs didn't look away. His breath had caught in his throat, true, but he didn't look away. He was pissed. He had every right to be pissed. Zora was too stubborn for her own good and he was terrified that she would suffer the consequences of that. He wanted to help. He _could_ help.

Muttering something to the tech beside her, Zora dismissed him and walked, slowly, towards Stubbs, sand and rock crunching beneath her boots.

When she reached him, she was the first to look away. Glanced back at the grave, a frown weighing heavy on her lips. "Another day, another mass grave. Is this sort of thing normal here?"

"No," he said curtly. "It's not."

Zora's face turned sour. She faced him, hands loose at her sides as if she was consciously trying to come off non-threatening. "Something wrong, Stubbs?"

 _Is something wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?_ A bitter laugh escaped him before he could help it. "Yeah, you could say something's wrong. I've gotta park guest slicing up hosts to try to get at their mind pearls, I've got a dead department head and a new one hell-bent on making my life difficult, and on top of that, I've got an agent with credentials I don't even know about disappearing for three days before showing back up with a knife wound in her gut. So yeah. You could definitely say something's wrong."

Zora's face smoothed into a familiar mask. One she always created so no one could get a read on her. "Why don't you just quit?" she asked, but her tone was neutral. "Go stay with that brother you always talk about. Get outta this mess while you can."

Quit? The thought had never occurred to him. Not once. No, Stubbs was the kind of man who saw things through, no matter what. And these people… as much as he wouldn't ever call any of his colleagues his friends, he felt responsible for them. Was responsible for them. Theresa's death had already been a huge blow… He couldn't imagine losing anyone else.

Not to mention the enigma standing beside him.

"I'm in this mess," he told Zora. "Whether you like it or not, I'm in it. I'm not gonna quit just because things are tough right now."

She side-eyed him. Searched his face, watched his expression, saw his determination. "Not even if staying would end up killing you?"

Was that what she was hiding? That he could be a target of whatever the hell was going on? That he could die for this job? "Not even then."

Clearly, she didn't like this answer. Her upper lip curled in annoyance. "I don't understand you," she said bluntly, confusedly. "Stubbs, I'm all but telling you to run away screaming, to cling to your life, and you're telling me that this park and the people in it are worth dying for. They aren't. They aren't, okay? Your life means something beyond this place."

Did his life mean anything outside of the park? Did he even really matter to anyone outside of the park? There was his brother of course… but they were too many years apart in age, had seen different aspects of the world. Stubbs would never be able to find a place with him. Much as he hated to admit it, Stubbs' life was a little sad. Because, yeah. He lived for the park.

Shaking the thoughts away, he refocused on Zora. The mask had slipped. She was staring up at him in equal parts annoyance, fear, and admiration.

"I'm not leaving, Agent Haque." The words tasted true on his tongue. He wouldn't leave. "Maybe if you accept that, you'll realize I can help you."

She remained silent. Was probably trying to process his stubborn foolishness or come up with a different tactic to get him to leave. She was trying to protect him – that much was glaringly obvious. So obvious that it made his heart swell a little. To know that someone cared enough. That someone would try. But he could protect her, too. He could protect the others in the park. It was his fucking job.

Before she could try to say anything else to change his mind, Stubbs approached one of the techs at the gravesite, gave them orders to ring him when all the hosts and evidence were back at the Hub, and started the long, hot walk back to the elevator. For once, just once, he wanted to be the one to have the last word with her.

000

Hale didn't even seem interested in the report Stubbs was giving her. In fact, she seemed annoyed that he was speaking at all, which was more than a little frustrating. How could the head of Quality Assurance not be concerned with the two mass graves, the dozen and a half bodies that had been carved into, the IP that was at risk?

"Ma'am," Stubbs said sharply, getting the dark-haired woman to finally glance up at him. Her liquid brown eyes were more than a little patronizing. He cleared his throat and held her stare. "I'm trying to brief you on the situation we have with the hosts and their mind pearls. One of the guests seems determined to get inside their heads – literally – and we can't figure out who. Is that not a concern to you?"

Hale sat up straighter behind the glass desk she was at, squaring her shoulders in much the same way Zora did whenever she wanted to be difficult. Hale, on the other hand, was just being flat-out rude. "I can't say that it is," the woman told him. "Considering our engineers crafted several security measures to keep anyone from obtaining the mind pearls without the Hub's equipment. So, tell me, Mr. Stubbs – why are you wasting my time with this?"

Stubbs clenched his jaw, but that was the only outward sign that he was bothered. "Because it doesn't seem like a waste of time. It seems like a security issue."

"And aren't you the head of security?"

Breathe in. Out. "Yes."

Hale fixed him with a superior look. "Then isn't this technically your problem?"

"Yes," he admitted. "But Theresa always wanted briefs – "

"To be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Stubbs, Theresa is dead." The blatant disregard for her predecessor's demise made Stubbs go stiff. "And now I'm in charge. So if I didn't ask for a brief, I don't want one. I keep a careful eye on everything going on in the park, so rest assured, if a problem arises that I need your collaboration on, I will contact you."

"You mean like for the charity gala bullshit tonight?" Well, fuck. He hadn't meant to sound so insubordinate. "You want me to preside over security for a bunch of blue bloods on the rooftop, but not spend my time investigating who's trying to access the mind pearls? I just wanna make sure we're on the same page." And if his frustration had finally bled into his tone, well… there was nothing to be done about it now.

Charlotte Hale smiled at him. It sent shivers down his spine. It was nothing like Zora's practiced smiles, which were aimed at disarming her targets. No, Charlotte Hale's smile was completely devoid of emotion. "Yes," she answered in a clipped tone, settling back into her leather chair. "That's right. It's imperative that tonight goes well, since the rest of the board is in to visit, and I want you to make sure nothing pops up unexpectedly."

Shoving his distaste for the woman before him down, Stubbs tried to clear his head and focus on the task presented to him. "Is there anything I should look for in particular?"

Charlotte waved a hand in the air. "No, nothing in particular. Just keep an eye on the hosts, the other guests… Oh." She clasped her hands atop the glass desk and leaned forward. There was a hardness in her gaze that hadn't been present a moment before. "And Agent Haque. Keep a _very_ close eye on her. I don't need her fucking with my event."

Zora? First Theresa hadn't liked Zora, and now Charlotte didn't?

"You know Agent Haque?"

Charlotte looked at him as if he was stupid. "Obviously."

"If you don't mind me asking… how?" He cleared his throat, tried to sound interested for professional reasons, only. Which was half true. "Theresa knew her. Didn't like her very much. Seemed like there was a lot of bad blood between those two."

Hale snorted at this. "I think that's putting it lightly. Agent Haque is a pain in all our asses. Has been for a few years now. But no one can ever figure out who the fuck she's working for, so we don't even know what it is she wants. I was given instructions by Ford to let her wander the park and do all the investigating she feels like." Hale tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe the serial-head-carver will keep her busy and off _my_ ass."

Ford had given Hale that order? Stubbs mentally tucked that information away for later. Maybe he could ask the old man what Zora's story was. Or maybe it was just better to try to get it out of the woman, herself.

Lost in thought, he nearly jolted when Hale cleared her throat, loudly.

She gave Stubbs a pointed look. "Is that all, then?"

"Yes," he said, backing up towards the door.

"Good. I'll see you later, Mr. Stubbs."

000

Ashley Stubbs hated wearing a suit. He hated mingling. He hated parties. To others, it was a time to let loose, grab a few drinks, shake off the hustle of the work day at a place like the Mesa and enjoy oneself; but to Ashley Stubbs, parties at the Mesa were his worst nightmare come to life. They were a clash of host and guest, of civilian and potentially dangerous technology or vice versa, a strategic fuckfest and a headache all rolled into one. He had men and women dressed in plainclothes – or rather, dressed up as partygoers – keeping an eye on everything on the rooftop. He had people stationed inside watching the cameras. And he, himself, was forced to don a suit and play the part of partygoer while he scanned the rooftop for any potential issues.

Men, women, and hosts passed by his vantage point at the open-air bar, which afforded him a view of all angles and exits and hazards that could come into play. He sipped on the water in front of him and listened absently at the small talk going on around him while he scanned the crowd. It was well into the night by now, and guests were becoming more than a little inebriated.

Just great.

An elegant woman passed by him, who he immediately dismissed as non-threatening, before his gaze rotated back towards her and he realized just _who_ that woman was.

Zora.

Zora Haque.

Agent Zora Haque, bereft of her tactical pants, her beloved armored vest, her boots. Looking absolutely sinful in a black gossamer dress that hugged her curves all the way down to her waist before lightly flaring out, skimming the ground as she walked. In five-inch heels.

For fuck's sake. Some god or the universe itself was plotting against Stubbs. Why else would the woman of his dreams, the woman he thought about literally non-stop, be in the one place he least expected her to be, wearing the one thing he least expected her to wear?

Then he remembered Hale's warning about Zora and remembered that it was technically his job to keep an eye on her for the night.

Wouldn't be a hard job, at all.

She hadn't noticed him yet. Either that, or she had, and decided to ignore him entirely. With her, it was always hard to tell. As she passed by the bar and the pool, Zora smiled kindly at guests and said her hellos, addressing higher-ups that Stubbs hadn't even realized she knew, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries. She looked like a regular diplomat – so astoundingly different from the woman he had come to know her as that he wondered if maybe she had a lookalike hanging around.

The Zora Haque that haunted his every waking and sleeping moment was cagey, challenging, blunt, deadly, and above all, secretive. Not this open, smiling, kind woman as adept at making small talk as any politician might be.

It wasn't difficult for Stubbs to come to the conclusion that it was all an act. Zora was smart. Shockingly so. If she figured that kindness and flattery was her best bet to achieve whatever the hell she wanted tonight, then he was certain she could train herself to be the kindest and most flattering person at the gala.

It was only when Zora began approaching Charlotte Hale, who was entertaining a group of board members across the rooftop, that Stubbs started to feel anxious. Technically, Hale had only asked Stubbs to keep an eye on Zora. Not to remove her from the party and not to intervene should the agent try to speak to the department head. He debated the merits of getting up and following Zora over for several seconds before it was too late, and Zora had already reached Charlotte.

The QA department head turned to the agent with an eye-roll and a quick, probably snappy remark. From his vantage point, Stubbs could see Zora return Charlotte's causticness with the same diplomatic kindness she had given Theresa. The pair exchanged words for a few minutes longer before Zora grinned at Charlotte, who was glaring fiercely, and turned heel to leave.

He hoped that Hale wouldn't blame him for whatever the hell had just occurred between the two women.

A seat shifted beside him while Stubbs watched Zora retrace her steps. The gown she was wearing flowed around her figure nicely, showing off her athleticism, her feminine frame and curves.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" a man asked Stubbs, pulling the head of security from his thoughts.

Stubbs glanced to his left, where the voice had come from, and immediately thought _fuck_. Fuck! How had William Delos managed to slip past Stubbs' usually sharp awareness and take him off guard? More concerning: why was the big boss, himself, even deigning to speak to Westworld's head of security?

Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, Stubbs glanced back at Zora and had to nod. "Yes," he said simply, not sure what else to do. The older man beside him grunted in return.

"Agent Zora Haque," William Delos enunciated each syllable carefully, purposefully. Stubbs had to bite back surprise that the older man knew Zora's name. "Quite the mystery, I must admit. I've known her for years and still haven't figured the woman out."

Did _everyone_ have a history with Zora? She couldn't have been that old – maybe twenty-seven, at the oldest. How did she have such a strange background?

"She's difficult to read," Stubbs agreed. He refocused on the older man, intrigued. "How do you know her?"

William's bright blue eyes lit up, as if he was laughing at some personal joke. He grinned, but his eyes were still on Zora, who had been stopped by that guy from Narrative – Lee. "We go way back," William said vaguely, as frustratingly vaguely as Charlotte had been. Then William's eyes cut to Stubbs. There was a wisdom there, a depth, that Stubbs had seen in very few people before. But there was also a hint of something else. Something darker. "I'd warn you to keep your distance from her, Mr. Stubbs, but it seems like it's too late for that, isn't it?"

Stubbs clenched the water glass in his hand tighter. Why did it feel like everyone else always knew what was going on, aside from him? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I'm talking about the hearts popping out of your eyes when you stare at her," William said bluntly. "Can't say I blame you. I'm sure she's every man's dream, or was, at some point. But there's a reason she isn't popular here."

Finally. _Finally_. Some answers. "And why's that?"

"Because she always sticks her nose where it doesn't belong." William suddenly sounded angrier than he had before. Hateful, almost. His eyes flashed over to Zora again, swirling with an emotion Stubbs didn't have a name for. Then William downed the rest of his whiskey and stood. "Have a nice night, Mr. Stubbs."

Fuck. As if he hadn't been on edge enough. Had William Delos just threatened him? What this what Zora had meant when she told Stubbs that these people weren't who they seemed to be?

000

Before she could escape from the party, Stubbs stood from his bar stool and intercepted her.

Zora halted immediately, shoulders squaring up. Her eyes, two sharp emeralds set into her ivory face, scanned his visage, down to his chest, down to his shoes. A dark eyebrow cocked as she made a low noise of approval in her throat.

"Stubbs," she greeted, surprise lining her voice. "Wasn't expecting to see you here." There was a thick pause – she stared down at his chest again like she was undressing him, and Stubbs had to fight the urge to fidget at the look in her eyes – before she smirked. "You clean up _very_ nicely."

"Are you saying I don't normally look nice?"

He lived for those little smiles of hers. For the real ones. The genuine one she gave him right now. "I'm just saying that you've far surpassed my expectations."

Now his brows rose. "Expectations?" He pondered that a moment. "Are you saying you've pictured me in a suit, before?"

In typical Zora fashion, she didn't answer, but instead launched a question of her own. "Why are you here?"

"As you often like to forget, I'm head of security. I'm working."

"Must be thrilling. Y'know, now that I think about it, I have a security issue to report. I saw a guest shoving some hors d'oeuvres into her purse earlier. Seemed kinda fishy to me."

Stubbs rolled his eyes. "You're actually my biggest security concern, at the moment."

Realization dawned in Zora's eyes. She glanced back at Charlotte, far, far away, with an amused laugh. "Really? God, people here really hold a grudge, don't they?"

"Yeah? What's this grudge they're holding, anyway?"

He hadn't expected an answer, of course. At this point, he was just trying to be as much a pain in the ass for her as she was for him. Zora grinned, winked at him. "I admire your persistence," she admitted. "Did I see you talking to William Delos?"

He blinked back his surprise. Did nothing slip past her notice? "Guess so. Wasn't sure why he'd talk to me, though."

A glint of knowledge sparked in her eyes. "I have a few ideas. He warned you about me?"

"Do you know everything?" he couldn't help but ask. "How would you even know that?"

Zora shrugged, drawing attention to the gown again. The way it hugged her body in all the right places. "People are very predictable, Mr. Stubbs."

Maybe. Maybe he just didn't catch on as quickly as Zora seemed to. Staring at her again, taking in the gown, the hint of makeup lining her eyes, Stubbs couldn't keep himself from saying, "You look beautiful."

For once, Zora seemed to be speechless. Maybe people weren't as predictable as she thought.

"What?" he asked with a grin, his tone taking on a hue of sarcasm. "You didn't see that coming?"

"I – "She stopped herself. Looked at him, blinked, as if she were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. At last, her face fell. "I think you should heed Delos' warning, Stubbs. There's a reason why I make so many enemies, here."

"So I've heard."

"I'm serious."

"I know." But other people didn't dictate who he was or was not attracted to. And something within Ashley Stubbs was innately drawn to Zora Haque. He knew that, even if he were to cut all ties with her completely, she would haunt him. He would regret it, always.

Pursing her lips, those sensual lips, she frowned at him. With her heels, she didn't have to crane her neck up so much. "Stubbs…"

"You should call me Ashley," he surprised her again by saying. "Or Ash. That's what my brother calls me."

A war of emotions played out on her face. To even see that much of her thought process surprised him – she was usually so guarded, so locked down, so careful to keep herself a blank mask. But it was clear that he was having an affect on her. A swell of pride swept through Stubbs. Good. He wanted to affect her as much as she did him.

Squaring her shoulders again, like she was ready for battle, Zora said, "I should go. I only came here to have a little chat with Charlotte."

Stubbs frowned. "I'm not one for parties, myself." Glanced down at her dress again. Thought about how he was working, but his men and women had things handled for the moment. "You've been avoiding me." She opened her mouth to rebuke this, but Stubbs continued on. "Don't deny it. You have been. Why?"

Zora wavered. "I think we should put some distance between ourselves."

Her words were like a sucker-punch to the gut. It _hurt_. And that's when he knew. He more than liked this woman. He was completely infatuated with her. Distance… No, putting distance between themselves was complete bullshit. "Why?" he asked again, unable to mask his broken tone.

She couldn't hold his gaze. That was a first. Staring down at her shoes, she kept her shoulders squared, her jaw clenched. "I'm a dangerous enemy to have, Stubbs." Wouldn't even use his name, like he asked. "But I'm an even more dangerous friend. Getting tangled up with me will only bring you pain. It could get you hurt."

"I'm capable of making my own decisions," he grit back, harsher than he intended.

Zora played with the skirt of her dress. He wondered how many weapons she had hidden beneath. "You are," she allowed. "But I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Maybe you should let me keep myself safe and stop taking choices away from me."

Something about what he'd said struck a chord with her. Zora blinked up at him. Gods, she was beautiful. Before she could argue further, Stubbs had made up his mind. Zora was so at ease taking away his own agency… Maybe he could take some of hers. Show her how it felt.

Grasping her small hand, interlacing his fingers with her, he ignored the sound of surprise from deep within her throat and pulled her over to the area where other guests were slow dancing. Zora followed him on unsure feet. When he stopped in the middle of the improvised dance floor, she tried to pull away. Charlotte Hale was outright staring at them. In fact, a lot of people were outright staring at them.

"Stubbs – "

"Ashley or Ash," he corrected her.

Her eyes flashed. It made his stomach curl up and plummet to his toes. She actually smiled. Fucking smiled. Genuinely.

"Ash," she tested the nickname. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing with a beautiful woman, obviously."

"A deadly woman."

"Deadly and beautiful," he agreed. "A perfect combination."

Another genuine smile. Still, though, she hesitated. "Ash…" Gods, he would never get tired of hearing his name on her lips. "In the narratives for the park, there's always a point of no return. What if this is it, for you?"

Stubbs smiled down at her. Grabbed her other hand and settled it on his shoulder, pulled her flush to his body. He felt like two pieces of a puzzle had just clicked together, at long last. "I've made my decision."

Green eyes glittered. She was simultaneously happy and nervous. "You have to let me protect you."

"Only if you let me do the same."

Finally, she relaxed in his arms. "That's something we'll have to negotiate."

And they danced.

* * *

 **A/N:** But is anything ever that easy at Westworld?


	5. Part Two: Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Two.

 _The Truth Makes Me a Liar_

It was an understatement to say that Charlotte Hale was unhappy with Stubbs. Unhappy was too nice of a word for it, really. Pissed. Seething. The way the woman was pacing in front of her desk reminded Stubbs very much of an angry lioness, ready to attack at the slightest provocation.

"Are you trying to get yourself fired?" Hale finally asked, breaking the silence that had been pressing down on the pair for the last five minutes. She came to a stop in front of Stubbs, arms crossed, face scrunched in anger. "I told you to keep an eye on her, not fucking woo her. The hell do you think you're doing?"

Despite the third-degree treatment he was currently receiving, Stubbs didn't regret his actions in the least. Having Zora pressed up against him like that, dancing with him, smiling without any pretense… No, he didn't regret it at all.

But he did need to save some face. Zora warned him that these people weren't who they pretended to be. So staying on Charlotte Hale's good side was definitely a good plan, even if he had to lie to do so. "You said to keep an eye on her. She's a security threat, Hale. You said as much yourself. Better to keep her close and gain her trust, don't you think?"

Hale's face smoothed out. She studied Stubbs even closer. "You're trying to gain her trust," the woman repeated, as if the thought hadn't crossed her mind. She was looking at Stubbs like he was a stranger. Then she smiled. "I think I've underestimated you, Mr. Stubbs."

"Yeah. People usually do." Zora did.

Charlotte tapped her chin. "I like this. I like this idea." Reinvigorated, Charlotte nodded. "Keep it up. Gain her trust. Maybe someone can finally figure out who the fuck hired her and why she's here."

Stubbs forced himself to nod. "Yes, ma'am."

He made to leave, but Hale stopped him. "And Stubbs?"

"Yes?"

Another smile. Goosebumps rose on his arms. "Keep up the good work."

000

The mass graves were still bothering him. Niggling at his subconscious. Hale might've been able to write them off so easily, but Stubbs couldn't. He sensed that they were part of the chaos going on in the park, part of all the secretiveness, the bigger picture. They must have been, because Zora was also looking into them. She wouldn't easily waste her time on something that wasn't important.

So he made plans to have a team meet him in the tunnels beneath sector 14, just below the site of the last mass grave. Only about three of his men could be spared for the job – the rest were prepping for Ford's big event near the sea, where the old man would unveil his latest narrative and announce his retirement. Stubbs, himself, had been requested to go. He would, as soon as he wrapped things up in sector 14.

He wasn't even surprised to find Zora Haque waiting him near the elevator in the sector, arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the wall. He rolled his eyes. She'd said people were predictable. It was very likely that she'd known he would come here even before he decided.

"You're late," was the first thing she said, smirk on her lips.

Stubbs scoffed. "I can't be late to my own op. Besides, you weren't invited."

"I'm really good at inviting myself to things, in case you didn't notice."

"Surprisingly, I did."

They shared a brief smile. His heart fluttered. They were getting along and he didn't even have to force her to do so. Progress.

As they began packing up their things, strapping various weapons and gear to their bodies, Zora casually asked, "What do you know about Bernard Lutz?"

Stubbs, however, knew there was nothing casual about the question. "A few things. Why?"

"Y'know, sometimes I think _'why'_ is the word you know best. You're always asking it."

He gave her a sideways look. "Maybe that's because people always assume I won't. They point and say 'go', like I'm just some fucking drone to control."

Zora held her hands up defensively. "Woah, didn't know it was such a touchy subject."

Was it a touchy subject? That _was_ a pretty strong reaction to her words. Hm. "Why do you want to know about Bernard?"

Zora paused, considered what she should or should not share with Stubbs. "He's been acting strange lately, don't you think?"

Stubbs finished attaching his thigh holster. Brows drawn together in confusion. "How would you know?"

"I know a lot of things."

He sighed. "Clearly."

"Can you please just tell me?"

Another sigh. He waved for his men to go ahead and scout their area of the sector. The three of them shared uncertain glances with one another before nodding and taking off towards the elevator. Stubbs waited until they were already halfway topside before he spoke.

"Bernard's been head of Behavior since I've been here," he explained to Zora, who listened attentively. "Never missed a day of work in his life. Dedicated to the park, the hosts. Ford's always liked him, too. They seem to have a special relationship." He'd never thought very hard on that, but it _was_ a little strange. What was it about Bernard that Ford liked so much? "But he's a good man. Always has been. Cares for what he does. Unlike everyone else at this fucking company, he doesn't treat the hosts like they're slaves to our every whim. He cares for them. Looks out for them, even. I think… I think he identifies with them." Something Stubbs had always appreciated about the man. "He and Theresa were sleeping together," he added as an afterthought, but Zora immediately perked up at this bit of information.

"They were? How do you know?"

Stubbs shrugged. "It's my job to know. I have to check everyone's logs regularly, make sure no one's where they aren't supposed to be, everyone's safe… And he was often in Theresa's room. For long stretches of time."

Zora hmmed to herself. She bit the nail of her thumb, a habit he had never seen her indulge in, and he wondered if her guard was lowering around him. He hoped it was. "But they were just sleeping together? That's it?"

That was the strange part. "I _think_ that's it," he answered uncertainly. "When I tried to offer some condolences to him after her death… He was strange. Even refuted the fact that they'd been sleeping together entirely. And to be honest… he seemed to believe it. Or at least, I almost believed him. Maybe that's just his way to cope – everyone does it differently, right? But it always stood out to me as odd."

The agent nodded thoughtfully. "That's definitely strange. But it aligns with the information I've gathered."

"And what is that?"

Green eyes turned back on him, mischievous, amused. Another question she wouldn't answer. "You sent your men ahead. Is it just you and me, then?"

"Looks like it."

"Good. Let's go."

000

Ashley Stubbs was definitely not supposed to be this distracted while on the job. He shouldn't be distracted at all, actually – he wasn't head of security for being outlandishly incompetent, that's for sure. But when Agent Zora Haque was around… Well, it was hard not to be distracted.

For one, her hips swayed in the most hypnotic, tantalizing manner he had ever seen. Did women really walk like that? Even in the middle of the desert, with the sun beating down on their backs? Fuck. As soon as they'd reached ground, she'd walked ahead of him, seemingly already privy to the area of the sector he wanted to investigate for himself. And he had let her. Who wouldn't? The way her tactical pants clung to her skin…

Fuck.

"Keep up, Stubbs," she reprimanded him without even a backwards glance.

Stubbs managed a small glare at her ass. "I told you to call me by my name."

"Stubbs is your name."

"My first name."

Zora grunted in acknowledgement. "Why?"

She could be so difficult. "Because I want you to."

"And if I don't want to?"

For the first time between the pair, he grinned to himself, feeling like he finally had the upper hand. "You do."

Zora stopped. He almost ran into her, he was so distracted by her hips, her confident gait… her ass. Luckily, he pulled up short before she rounded on him, disbelief etched onto her visage. "Oh? Do I?"

The lust that had swirled in her eyes, the way she had let herself loose a bit when they danced… Yes, he knew this for certain. "Yeah. You do."

"You seem pretty confident." And she seemed skeptical.

"I am." Stepping closer to her, forgetting the job for a moment, the duties he had, the chaos, he watched smugly as she clenched her jaw and stared up at him, green eyes surprised. "So call me by name, Zora."

She was silent for so long that he almost thought he'd miscalculated. The smugness imbuing his expression had waned, replaced with self-doubt, when she finally said, "I don't know if I prefer Ashley or Ash more."

God damn, there was that fluttering in his chest again. Like a fucking hummingbird caught in a cage. "Ash," he recommended. Because, no, he had never really been fond of the name his parents gave him.

"Ash," she tested for a second time. He savored the sound. He wanted her to say it again. "You shouldn't do this," she said sadly, and fuck if he wasn't sick of her looking at him with such regret. He wanted her to look at him with certainty. With something _more_. "I told you, I'm a dangerous friend to have."

"So don't be my friend," he suggested. Where was all this confidence coming from? He wasn't entirely sure, but it felt right. He knew he was right. She felt the same way about him as he did for her. As a young man, he'd never had a lot of confidence in the romantic realm, and not much had changed since then – he'd only ever had one girlfriend in his life before he'd gone into the Marines, and that had gone to shit so quickly that he'd sworn off relationships altogether. His life was his job. But Zora Haque… Zora Haque made him wish for more.

In typical Zora fashion, her face had gone blank again. He was beginning to realize that she'd try to shut herself off whenever things got too real for her. When things got into dangerously honest territory, or when she desperately didn't want someone to know what she was thinking. "If I'm not your friend, then I'm your enemy."

She said it as if the world was only black and white.

Stubbs took a tiny step closer. They were breathing the same air. She smelled of mint and mango and something utterly feminine. "Those aren't the only two options and you know it."

Her impassive expression broke; beneath it, Zora was scared. Actually scared. The sight forced him to take a step back – maybe he _was_ taking too many liberties with her. What was she so afraid of? Him?

"Zora, I – "

"Stop," she said, backing away from him even further. At least six feet separated the pair, now. It felt like six hundred. "Just… stop. Not now."

He'd pushed her too far. He knew how she felt about him, true. But she wasn't ready. "I'm sorry."

"We should keep moving," she said quickly, already putting her back to him, shutting him out. He felt shame. He should have known. Zora Haque was a carefully kept secret. A complete enigma. A woman who clearly needed nothing and no one to get by. And the feelings she probably had for him, the feelings he definitely had for her… Maybe she didn't know how to handle it. Hell, he didn't know how to handle it.

"Zora, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she said, but something about her voice was off. "It's… let's just go."

And what else could he do but agree?

000

The sun was setting. As soon as Stubbs realized it, he glanced at his watch, worried. "Fuck," he muttered, pausing his trek towards Zora, who stood at the edge of a cliff, looking outward, a distant expression on her face.

At his voice, she faced him, concerned. "What?"

"Nothing. I was just supposed to be at Ford's party right now. He's announcing his retirement."

A look he couldn't quite decipher crossed her face. If she were anyone else, he might've thought she was disappointed. But that couldn't be it at all. She was Zora Haque. She was, quite simply, different. "It's not far from here. We can head over," she suggested.

It was tempting. The call of duty was one he had a hard time dismissing. But he had assigned his best men and women for the job… He knew they could handle it on their own. "No," he decided. "It's too late, anyway. And we've come up empty handed. I know we should head back, but…"

"But there's _something_ out here," she continued for him. "I can feel it."

They shared a look. "So can I."

Surveying the landscape again, Zora nodded at an overhang they'd yet to come across. "Let's at least head over there before we call it quits for the night."

"I'll follow you." And not because he wanted to stare at her ass. Well, not entirely. Zora was oddly attuned to their environment. Her footsteps were natural, not awkward or unbalanced like many of the techs he'd seen try to manage the terrain. Watching her navigate their way to the overhang was like watching a jungle cat gracefully prowl its territory. It was mesmerizing.

Approaching the thicket that had managed to grow just beneath the overhang, Stubbs squinted his eyes and peered through dying sunlight to realize they'd come across a cave.

"That's strange," he remarked quietly, taking the lead. He pulled out the pad he kept folded in his back pocket and checked his map, to be sure. "There shouldn't be a cave here."

Zora followed silently on his heels, easily picking her way through the brambles, clicking on a flashlight he hadn't realized she'd brought. "Yeah, well, in my opinion, there are a lot of things in this park that shouldn't be here."

The beam of light penetrated the shadows gathered beneath the overhang, which gradually narrowed into a cave. The entrance was just wide and tall enough for a human to pass inside, but curved sharply to the right, almost like a hallway.

Stubbs was about to comment on the unusual feature when gunshots broke through the quiet night air, followed by a haunting chorus of screaming.

Both Stubbs and Zora froze, turning to each other and making eye contact. The noises were far enough away that they both knew they weren't in immediate danger, but something about those screams…

"I'm going to guess that's not a narrative?" Zora ventured, her hand settled on the Glock at her hip.

Stubbs' stomach clenched. No, no that wasn't a narrative. The direction of the screams, the gunshots, it was the exact direction Ford's party would be relative to him and Zora.

Pulling an earpiece from his cargo pocket, he clipped it in and synced it to his pad.

"Hub, this is Stubbs. Come in."

Static.

Stubbs turned away from the cave, walked further out into the plain he and Zora had crossed, the pad in his hand all the while. "Hub," he tried again. "Hub, this is Stubbs. Do you copy?"

More static. Uneasiness crept into his bones. If there was a threat…

"Zora," he said, turning towards the woman, finding her trying to contact someone, herself. He didn't realize she had been equipped with a sat phone, and had no idea who she might be trying to get in touch with, but if her pinched expression was any indication, it also wasn't working. "Zora," he said, crossing towards her until she was just inches away. The tempo of his heartbeat began to pick up. "I need to check on what's happening."

Shoving the sat phone back into one of her various pockets, Zora nodded determinedly and unclipped her sidearm. "Lead the way."

"No," he said, and he almost didn't recognize his own voice. Panicked. "No, you don't get it… You need to head back to Hub. See how things are going there."

Zora's piercing eyes studied him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Gods, how was it so easy for her to read him? He felt cut open and exposed; like every little thing that made him into who he was could easily be seen by her, in this moment.

"You're trying to get rid of me," she finally accused, irritated.

Lying to her would be useless. "I'm trying to make sure you'll be safe while I go check things out."

Regardless of his sentiment, of the softness of his voice, Zora shook her head mulishly. "No, what you're doing is wasting valuable time while we should be trying to get to Ford's party as quickly as we can. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, Stubbs – you should know that. So let's _go_. It sounds like trouble, and if my people aren't answering, and yours aren't either… We need to go, now."

His mind was all over the place. He couldn't quell the strong urge to get Zora to safety, to make sure she'd be out of harm's way while he took care of things. It was his fucking _job_ to protect people. But the rational part of his brain knew that Zora was making perfect sense; she was more than capable of looking after herself, not to mention other people. She was an asset in a situation like this. So why did he feel such a desperate need to drag her off to safety?

"Fine," he gritted out, pushing those thoughts to the back of his head. He glanced down at his pad, ready to begin navigating themselves towards Ford's party, but cursed darkly when he realized that the screen was fritzing. It couldn't connect to the Hub. "Fuck."

Zora frowned. "Never mind the fucking tech. I know what sector it's in."

"So do I."

"Then let's _go_."

000

He had to fight the urge to shove her behind him, to pull her closer – anything that would keep Zora safer against whatever they'd walk into. It was silly, he knew – nothing truly horrible could be happening at the park. Sure, comms with Hub was down and the pad was acting up, but Hub was likely focusing all of their manpower on whatever strange event had happened at Ford's gala. Things would probably be under control by the time he and Zora arrived. He was likely worrying for no reason.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. To ignore the strange, niggling feeling in his stomach. Things would be under control shortly. They had nothing to worry about.

He was following Zora yet again; despite his legs being longer than hers by a decent amount, she was lithe and quick, certain with her movements. She led the way out of the small valley they'd been investigating and into the thicket of forest that separated this sector from the next. She'd insisted on no flashlights, even after Stubbs had assured her that they would be more beneficial than harmful in the long run. Still, he had been able to read in her eyes that she was, in fact, very worried about what could be occurring at Ford's party. So he didn't argue.

Picking their way through the forest in near-darkness wasn't terrible once his eyes had adjusted. Moreover, the closer they came to Ford's sector, the more lights there were ahead, beckoning the agent and the head of security forward.

The air had gone eerily silent after nearly five minutes of screams and gunshots. Stubbs told himself it was because a team of Hub agents had secured the issue. He'd had good men and women stationed at the gala; it was likely one of them took control of the situation and had started shuttling people back to the Mesa.

The lights from the party grew closer and closer; Zora's speed steadily waned. Finally, once they'd nearly reached the edge of the forest, Zora halted Stubbs with a firm hand on his chest.

He wondered if she could feel his heartbeat flutter.

"I suggest we hold," Zora murmured quietly to him, eyes forward and assessing what lay beyond the edge of the forest. From here, Stubbs could make out the stout buildings of an Old West town he was completely unfamiliar with – part of Ford's new narrative, no doubt, and the dark ocean beyond. "Observe, first," Zora continued. "Make sure we aren't walking into an ambush. It's too fucking quiet for a party that was supposed to host nearly a hundred guests and hosts."

He hadn't realized she knew so much about Ford's final narrative, but he wasn't surprised. "It's probably so quiet because Hub security swept in and handled things."

Zora gave him a skeptical look, her deep green eyes almost looking black in the darkness. "If that's the case, then there's nothing wrong with hanging back and observing for a moment."

True.

After a sharp nod at the agent, Stubbs watched as the woman folded into a crouch and crept forward further, towards the fringe of the forest's shrubs and trees, fading from one shadow to the next. The same deadly grace that he sometimes saw in her gait was once more present; it took all of his willpower not to stand and watch her, but to mimic her crouch and follow.

Zora paused at the tree line, holding Stubbs back with a firm hand once more. But this time, her hand clutched his wrist, squeezing so hard it was nearly painful. Stubbs opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but Zora immediately shushed him and nodded forward, towards the little town. She was eerily still.

Finally peeling his eyes away from her, he realized why she had reacted so strongly.

It was a massacre.

Guests lay dead or dying sporadically through the town, most turned towards the forest, the main pathway – any exit they could have taken in order to attempt an escape. Blood stained the earth, wooden walls, the walkways… There was so much blood. So much death. And hardly any hosts on the ground next to their human counterparts.

For a moment, he thought he might be sick. This was his job and he'd been too busy meandering around the park with Agent Haque to do it. Was this his fault? All these people – was their blood on him?

Zora's hand wrapped tight around his wrist brought him back from the brink of those thoughts. He blinked, still settled in his crouch but nearly collapsed on the ground now, and faced the woman, dry-mouthed.

Her emerald eyes had sharpened once more. She was focused. He needed to be, too. "Try getting on your comms, again," she advised him in a low tone. She kept him from falling into the ground, but he suspected she was keeping him hiding in the brush, as well.

Almost robotically, Stubbs did as he was told. That was protocol – in case of emergency, notify Hub immediately. Get a team out. But what if Hub couldn't be reached? Swiping at the screen, watching it continue to fritz as it had many minutes ago, Stubbs felt lost.

"It's not working," he told Zora.

Still clutching him, Zora slipped her sat phone from her pocket once more. She pressed a single button and held it to her ear. Waited. Listened. But even Stubbs could hear the muffled _beep beep beep_ of the communication device not connecting.

"Still down," she muttered, shoving it irately into her pocket once more. Zora surveyed the mess before them before turning about to study Stubbs.

"I need you to focus," she told him firmly. No-nonsense. Zora was a no-bullshitter, just like him.

Stubbs was slowly forcing himself back together. His instincts were telling him to get Zora out of possible danger _immediately_. If anything happened to her…

But the dark hue her eyes had taken on bespoke a control over the situation that he didn't quite have. If anything, she was probably wondering how to get _him_ out of there.

Rather than doing either, they needed to work together.

"I'm focused," he finally said, unclipping his weapon and flipping off the safety. "What's the plan?"

Zora didn't hesitate. "Hub's comm's are down. My comm's are down. Looks like it's you and me until Hub sends out a team to retrieve everyone. Obviously a distress signal had to have gone out – anytime a guest dies in the park, an automatic alert goes to security. Am I right?"

Stubbs nodded.

"Good. Then we survey the area. Triage. A lot of these people are already past helping – maybe all of them. But I need you to yellow or green light anyone who might be hanging on for when rescue arrives. Can you do that?"

Another nod. "What about you?" He glanced back at the town, the stage that he couldn't quite see from this distance. Gripped the gun tighter. "If the attacker's still around…?"

"That's what I'm gonna take care of," she told him, and she said it in such a manner that Stubbs believed Agent Zora Haque, this one woman show, could take down an army single-handedly if she had to. It scared him straight down to his bones.

000

After surveying the area of the dead, Stubbs had taken a count: twenty-eight guests were dead in total; five of his men and woman had been shot and killed, one gutted; two board members had been slaughtered with what looked like a club. And that was just the area before the stage. There were a number of bodies scattered on the pathway leading to the main event, all of which Stubbs stopped and checked for pulses. So far, he'd found no one alive. The shots that had been fired were precise. The blows from blunt weapons efficient. It chilled him to see. So many that were dead. So much blood on his hands.

Zora was prowling about; without eyes on her, his anxiety increased tenfold. Walking among the recently massacred and looking at all the human lives that had been spent made Stubbs face the fact that Zora Haque was just as human as the rest of them. She could fall victim to the sick son of a bitch that had done this, too. It was stupid to think otherwise – to think she was above death.

Then he reached the stage, and all thoughts of Zora faded into the back of his mind.

There, lying face down in a pool of his own blood, was Dr. Ford. Shock forced Stubbs' booted feet to stop, his mouth to fall open, his stomach to nearly plummet to his toes. Dr. Ford was dead. The man that had created all of this had been murdered in his own park.

An inexplicable sadness, even anger, rose up in Stubbs. He hadn't been close with the man, but his death _felt_ personal. How could someone harm Dr. Ford? Shoot him in the back of the head like a fucking coward? How could someone do that?

He finally approached the body. Turned the old man over carefully, gently, so that he didn't have to be discovered so disgraced in death when rescue arrived. But just as he was pushing the old man's eyes closed, there was a sudden intake of breath behind him.

Stubbs was standing upright, gun fixed on the intruder in an instant. But it wasn't an intruder. It was just Zora.

Zora, who stared down at the body of Dr. Ford with the most open look he had ever seen on her face. Zora Haque, the mystery woman, the enigma, looked mournful. She looked heartbroken.

"He's…?" She couldn't even ask. Stopped herself. Took one step forward before halting abruptly, reeling backwards as if a snake had lashed out at her.

Stubbs' voice was hoarse. "Dead," he confirmed.

Bright green eyes absorbed the sight. If he wasn't mistaken – and he probably was – it seemed like she was memorizing the morbid scene, the way the skin of Ford's forehead had split from the bullet, the shocking crimson color of his blood against his too-pale face. The agent took a tentative step forward. Then another. She dropped to her knees before the old man, her hands resting helplessly at her sides.

Stubbs had never seen her so fucking vulnerable before. So unguarded. The murderer could still be around, but Zora seemed to forget that altogether. And the intimacy of her sadness, her heartbreak, hit him like a wall of brick.

She knew Ford. On a personal level. This was _personal_ for her.

"Zora…"

He tried not to notice as she swiped at her eyes. Tried hard not to be surprised that she, of all people, was crying. It didn't seem right for him to be witness to it. He was intruding.

Within seconds, Zora's spine had steeled once more. Her jaw had clenched, the muscles in it tensing, and her fists were balled at her sides. He watched as her eyes morphed from heartbroken to angry. Watched carefully as that anger slowly came under control. The rare moment of vulnerability had come to its close.

There was too much to absorb. There was a killer on the loose in the park. There were so many dead guests and a dead Dr. Ford.

He didn't try to touch her – something unnameable advised him not to, whispered that she was somehow at her most dangerous right now – but he stood over her. "We should find somewhere to hold tight for a bit. Wait for backup."

She was too silent for too long.

"We need to get out of the open," he tried again, feeling too exposed, too easy of prey, too uncertain of what lay ahead of them.

Finally, she nodded. Stood, spine unnervingly straight. Hands loose at her sides. When she faced him at long last, the always-in-control Zora Haque was back. She peered over his shoulder, pointed at the only two-story building in the little town. "Higher ground," she clarified, tone tight. "In fact, it'd be best if we scaled up to the roof. Can you do that?"

He could do anything as long as it kept her safe. "Yeah."

She didn't wait for any more of a reply, instead walking straight past Stubbs and to the marked building. It would have been a tavern of sorts, Stubbs noted absently, reading the blood-spattered sign, peering at the broken windows. Zora walked right up to the short roof that hung over the first story from the second and jumped up, getting a firm grip on the wooden planks. With what seemed like little effort, she hauled herself up and rolled forward, turning back to offer a hand to Stubbs.

"I got it." He mimicked the agent and hauled himself onto the roof of the first-story with just a little less grace than her. She was already scaling the second-story when he'd straightened up and brushed off his hands.

When they both stood atop the second-story roof, a perfect vista and vantage point for the area around them, Stubbs felt the shock of the night start to wear off. His hands were shaking. He felt sick.

"You might as well sit," Zora suggested, her voice still eerily devoid of emotion, as she folded herself down Indian-style. "Might be a long wait ahead of us."

He sat beside her, but her chilly demeanor made it feel like he was miles away. He tried hard to focus on the horizon in the direction of Hub rather than note all the bodies on the ground below them. A long wait ahead, indeed.

* * *

 **A/N:** Let's just say that things definitely pick up between Stubbs and Zora in the next chapter.


End file.
